


Experimental Dango

by HarkinTheDestroyer



Series: Of Ninjas and Their Shops [2]
Category: D.Gray-man, Naruto
Genre: BAMF Allen Walker, BAMF Lenalee Lee, Big Brother Uchiha Itachi, Fluff and Angst, I Hate OC's, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insomnia, Itachi deserves a break, Itachi has innocence, Kanda Yuu Swears a Lot, Kanda Yuu has Feelings, Komui is protective, Lvellie can die, Nightmares, OC's that serve a single purpose, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Uchiha Itachi, Road Kamelot is freaky, Uchiha Itachi-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29016354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarkinTheDestroyer/pseuds/HarkinTheDestroyer
Summary: What is life without a little pain or some unsolvable mystery here or there? What is life with it's one and only foil of death. Itachi awakens on a barren street, half-submerged in a puddle with burning lungs and surprisingly clear eyes. His memories are as jumbled and unreachable as clouds. Yet... he can't help but feel as though he should be dead. Here he is alive, half-drowned by a puddle, but alive. What's he supposed to do?There will be OC's used in order to move the story along. Consider them like the side characters in a video game, their purpose is to push the MC (Itachi) towards the relevant players (Canonical characters). I hate them and don't normally give them names, but for this story it was necessary.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Of Ninjas and Their Shops [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126427
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. Death by Mild Inconvenience

Itachi felt… _odd._ There was a strange sort of sleepy numbness enveloping him in an unrelenting embrace, discouraging the greater majority of his futile movements. With how heavy his limbs currently felt and the aching knot that was currently chest… well, movement seemed to be that equivalent of an unreachable fantasy. It was almost like a particularly bitter medic had placed a heavy, frozen, stiff futon over his semi-conscious form and called it day with nothing more than a smirk and the clap of the hands. He was cold, sore, hungry, and probably lacking a little _too_ much blood… but despite the hazy fog currently invading his mind, Itachi was pretty sure he was supposed to be dead. Looking inwards, his memories appeared rather scattered, much like clouds drifting free in the wind, currently untouchable and much too far away to see clearly. So many thoughts and remembrances separated from each other, seemingly both insignificant and random.

Yet… far along the horizon, he could feel the dark storm of ill-gotten experiences and event better left forgotten. Emotions of sorrow, pain, and almost bitter happiness fluttered in Itachi’s stomach as a particularly dark and foreboding cumulonimbus gathered along the edge of his consciousness. He could almost hear the roaring crashes of thunder and a strange chirping noise that sounded synonymous to many birds but which he subconsciously identified as lightning. Images of strange people dressed in red robes with chilling masks hung upon their faces as well as an even odder fan-like symbol flashed before his eyes. A half-remembered memory of his head slamming harshly into what most definitely felt like a concrete wall invaded his mind, his forehead ached in sympathy. He had fallen to the ground, last stuttered breath leaving him. Only the thunderous sky and the startled face of his younger brother looming over him.

For several moments Itachi couldn’t help but wonder if he had been thrown into some sort of discount purgatory. Instead of the anticipated fire, screaming souls, and inevitable torture he was placed in a puddle with a soaked blanket and a chest cold. Lovely. Was this torture via mild hypothermia and discomfort or…? It was fairly obvious that Itachi was _supposed_ to be dead and _meant_ to be in hell. He had an almost impassive feeling that he was overdo for a little bit of eternal damnation for some reason or another. A painful jabbing throb that permeated through every viable nerve ending reminded Itachi that his lungs were still very much willing to make him suffer. Turning his head painfully to the side, he attempted to take a sharp, hissing intake of air to soothe the pain… only to inhale a puddle. With a violent, gagging cough Itachi shot into a seated position, hacking up the dirty water that tasted concerningly like sludge… among other things.

As Itachi continued to choke, he pondered the possibility that this perhaps his own special kind of hell. As the numbness of his limbs faded, chased away by burning exhaustion, he was able to focus on the new feeling of drowning. Or more specifically; being a half-dead rat with two lungs filled with probably contaminated water and a cheery disposition. Itachi glanced at the slightly bloody water he had coughed up. It seemed that his lungs didn’t need any assistance killing him, they seem to be doing quite a fine job on their own. Bangs sticking to his face, Itachi took several deep and painful breaths. He ran a shaking hand down his face, panting, as he pushed messy strands of hair away from his eyes. If this _was_ hell… Uchiha Itachi wasn’t going to stand for it. He was meant to be brutally tortured psychologically and physically, not mildly inconvenienced by critically placed puddles. With a deep-seated, suffering sigh, Itachi stood, rocking, but thankfully remain on his feet.

Rubbing away the last remnants of sleep and what was probable sewage water, he took in his surroundings with clear eyes. The ground was uneven, stones of various sizes and shapes all shoved into the ground whether they wished to be or not. The buildings, sat slouched upon the dirty cobblestone, depressed within their personal gloom. They were of a familiar style, one which Itachi couldn’t quite place. There was something reminiscent about their gray stone and this downtrodden weather. Occasionally, people scurried by, content to ignore his soaked, likely dirty, form. They wore clothes Itachi found increasingly ridiculous each time a woman or man was seen– Itachi blinked. He blinked again before narrowing his eyes. Bringing his hand close to his face, he moved it away, then back again. He repeated this several times before his mind seemed to catch up with him. Why did he get the feeling he hadn’t been able to see before?

Itachi glared at nothing in particular. He was beginning to think not knowing this ‘ _before’_ was going to cause him problems. He filed this information into the corner of his mind reserved for things that seemed to defy logic and reality. Things such a family called Hyuuga’s females eating habits, the infinite cuteness of his adorable little brother Sasuke, and some weirdo name Shisui in general. It was both quite satisfying and unnerving to discover how organized his mind seemed to be despite his subconscious being more scrambled than Yakimeshi. These would be stored away and reserved for a later time when he could obsessively ponder them. Like Itachi would ever forget his little brother. He may not remember _everything,_ but Itachi _did_ remember just how much he adored him. Pushing thoughts of cute younger brothers out of his mind, Itachi focused on his current situation. Currently, his best option would be to perform some sort of reconnaissance.

So, ignoring how his body ached with every step and burned with every stumble over uneven cobblestone, he forced himself to keep moving. As he gradually made his way towards a more crowded street, a sense of unease began to fall over the young man. He felt almost naked, pinned under the eyes of every passing pedestrians who noticed him. Gradually, his eyes began to wander towards the tops of the slouched buildings. A perfect outlook to the world down below, hidden from searching and glaring eyes. With several well-timed leaps and only one nasty tumble Itachi took his position on the roof that towered over a much more popular street. Itachi felt his eye twitch as he watched people brush up and bump into each other. For some reason that seemed like an absolute nightmare, dangerous as well. For a while just crouched there, watching people hustle and bustle from shop to shop. Itachi eyed one woman whom had several layers of skirts and a particularly decorated parasol as she made her way down the street. Rather impractical for if someone ever needed, to run, jump, or kick.

A flourish of dark hair and an astonishing high kick flashed in his mind before disappearing just as quickly. Itachi frowned at the slippery thought. He was beginning to dislike this situation of only half-knowing things. Itachi continued to watch as the woman window-shopped, a smile slipping onto her face as she must have spotted something intriguing. Her clothes were obviously being worn to increase the emphasis on her beauty and likely the status that went along with it, but he wondered if that was worth the loss of mobility. He supposed that such thick and long skirts could, in some cases, even be used as a makeshift armor or even a handy place to hide weapons. What he didn’t get was–

“What the hell are ya’ doing on my roof?” An old woman called out, starling Itachi half to death.

A kunai embedded itself right next to her head, equally scaring her just as badly. A thin stream of blood began to flow down her face. She let out a startled shriek as she fell to the ground, and Itachi considered making a break for it. Foot half on the ledge, he had just been about to jump for it when the woman started scolding him.

“You little BRAT! Don’t ya’ even THINK about running! Where do ya’ go off throwing knives at people! Didn’t your Mum teach ya’ better than that!?”

Itachi considered this for a second before turning with a nod and a small bow.

“Hn. Your right.” He concluded, “Forgive me oba-sama. I was indeed taught better than this. Next time I won’t miss.”

The elder woman stared at him with wide eyes, before closing them in a long blink and sighing. Pulling herself to her feet the woman brushes dirt and dust off her flowery apron. She gave him a side-eye.

“You’re not from ‘round her are ya’, kid?” She questioned.

Itachi nodded, unsure of where the woman was going with this. Itachi watched as she turned and waved a hand for him to follow her. She meandered over to a door that Itachi assumed to lead to the bottom levels of the building and disappeared. After a moment’s hesitation, Itachi pushed open the darkly colored wood himself and began to make his way down the scarcely light staircase. Not that that was particularly a problem. Itachi appeared to have plenty of experience traveling sightlessly, yet another sign that perhaps he didn’t always have his sight. At the bottom of the stairs was another door with light sneaking in through the cracks. The old thing pushed open with a cackling tremor that made Itachi flinch. That was… louder than expected. Stepping into a nicely illuminated room, he ran his eyes over the people seated throughout the tiny space. Each either chatting with a drink or some sort of elegantly made sweet. Ignoring his own sweet tooth, Itachi traveled towards the familiar yelling voice of the old woman coming from the kitchen.

“– threw a knife at me!” She growled before growing silent.

Itachi silently pushed through the _thankfully_ silent kitchen doors and watched the scene unfold between what he assumed to be the elder woman and her daughter.

“Mother.” The daughter said with a strained smile, “I don’t think that happened.”

The elder woman made some rather strange noises before throwing her hands in the air.

“My cheek Emma! Look at my cheek! He cut it with that knife!” She exclaimed.

The daughter nodded dutifully, and lead her Mother over to stool by the counter. Once the elder woman was settled, she crossed her arms over her chest, staring down at her with frank eyes.

“You said you fell, didn’t you?” The elder woman nodded as her daughter continued, “Than that’s how you got the scratch…”

The elder woman scowled and turned her head to the side in indignation, and coincidentally towards Itachi. The elder woman let out yet another shriek, pointing towards him with an odd expression on her face and frantic gestures. This could be some sort of greeting right? He may not be the most social of persons be he wasn’t _that_ antisocial. Emma turned and looked him straight in the eye. Her rosy lips were quick to morph into a rather ugly, twisted sneer, one that showed too many teeth and accentuated her disgust.

“You must be the ‘mysteriously handsome foreigner with an attitude issue’. So… Mum didn’t make you up.” She gave him an evaluating look, “Either cook or stay out of my way, this is a kitchen _not_ a loitering hall.”

With that, the young woman turned back to whatever was currently boiling on the stove. Itachi turned his eyes back towards the elder woman whom appeared to be in shock. He gave her a respectful bow.

“I apologize for my… ‘attitude issue’, I had not meant to be rude oba-sama.” He supplied.

The woman continued to stare at her daughter, ignoring him completely. In return Itachi ignored her choosing instead to eye the daughter as she masterfully worked her way through the kitchen.

“Emma-sama may I request your permission to make Okonomiyaki?” Itachi questioned with a small bow.

Emma waves an offhanded hand in the air.

“Sure. If that whatever-whatever is good enough you can work her for food and lodge, since judging by your clothes and weirdo-speak you must be a foreigner on the rocks.”

Itachi nodded and moved towards the plump cabbages he had spotted laying ever so innocently on the counter.

For now, such an arrangement would be a perfect way to bide his time and sort through his thoughts. He wouldn’t lower his guard completely, of course, such an offer of lodging in a stranger's home should be taken with several grains of salt. For now, however, he would make it work.

“Oh and lose the weird animal mask. It’ll scare off costumers.”

… … …

“What do you mean he’s MIA!?” There was a scream followed by a loud crash of bottles and papers hitting the concrete floor.

There was a sigh and the sound of several papers being shuffled around. Either an attempt to reorganize the fallen reports or just a blatant dismissal as they were trampled below foot.

“I warned you when Project OX1 was first initiated that _eventually_ he would regain his sense of self whether your… _techniques_ were effective or not.” A calm, cold even, voice interjected.

There was a growl.

“I remember your words Supervisor.” He said with barely contained anger, “What I would like to know is just how we managed to lose our most successful project.”

There was a slight laugh or perhaps just a change in the tone of the other party's voice.

“I don’t actually know sir. I hadn’t the chance to read the report until you barged in here.” He shrugged, “You’re welcome to look through the papers on the floor; the report was in the pile you knock off my desk.”

… … …

“Mr. Weasel… I hope you're okay…”


	2. Socialization Shall be a Most Embarrassing Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life meanders on for now.

Everyone has beginnings wherewith the first shake of the hand or polite nod of the head an unfortunate spark of a saddening end can be sensed. Moments that would have been filled to the brim with naive jubilation and glee become wrought with bittersweet depression, the burning inner pain of knowing these small seconds will never span eternity. As time slips closer, with the glowing happiness of the sun and enchanting dance of the moon, to a time where these simple interactions can no longer be had. There would never be a defining plot twist nor a sudden, luckily realized foresight, only a point in which a feeling of despondent sorrow burrows deep into bone; the realization that rot has been set into a festering, aching wound. It could be a faint glow of any emotion, guilt, sadness, painful nostalgia, or even the familiar throb of tragedy.

For Itachi such an instant occurred with the exchanging of formalities with his new hosts, employers, and friends. The shadow of the unusual had refused to make its swirling confusing appearance with the first shaking of hands; hands for hand, mother Susan Davis and daughter Emma Davis for the lonely name of Uchiha Itachi. Yet just for a moment, the mistress of tragedy made her appearance adorned in a veil of despair and crying inky tears of bitter sorrow. She brought with her the familiar acquaintance of calamity, this time wearing a mask of sarcastic love and donning flowered clothes rather than the previous friendly teasing and sent of sweet soy sauce. A gentle kiss of touch to Itachi’s cheek before a snappish chiding to an unruly mother exorcised the invisible wraith, gone to other unknowing houses. Devastation had left its mark, quick as a fleeting peck and as deadly as poisoned lips, one that Itachi failed to recognize among the haze of forgotten memories.

The Davis’, by themselves, were rather odd. Utterly confounding with their willingness to accept him, a foreign stranger, into their little shop. Inclined towards forgiveness like storm clouds were to rain, never withholding teasing laughter and beautiful smiles. Itachi was, perhaps, quite an easy person to get along with once his dislike for long conversations and eerie silence was pushed aside, but the Davis’ hadn’t even batted an eye at such behavior. Even when he refused to remove his creepy ‘ _weirdo’_ weasel mask and floundered when it came to correctly interact with customers. Much to Emma’s utter amusement.

_“They’re really nothing to be afraid of you know.” She had spoken offhandedly, “The costumers, that is.”_

_Itachi glanced over from the dishes he was currently cleaning. The young was hunched over the stove with a washing cloth clutched in her hand. The counters shined almost unnaturally under her work._

_“Hn.” Itachi nodded solemnly, “’Only fear dine-and-dashers.’”_

_He returned to the dishes, scrubbing away various sauces both sweet and savory. He had been praised several times already for his ability to return even the most ruined of dishes, pots, and pans to their former glory. Itachi had humbly accepted the praise but chose not to elaborate on where he had learned such marvelous cleaning skills. Really, there wasn’t anything that stained worse than blood. As a shinobi, such a practical skill was almost always an advantage. A damp cloth suddenly slapped him in the face, Itachi startled. Emma just smirked._

_“That isn’t what I mean and you know it!” She stated loudly, “Nobodies going to pull one of those weird knives on you. Even if they did, I really don’t think they could match your skill.”_

_The cloth fell from Itachi’s face and he stared unblinkingly at her. Emma scratched her cheek, slightly uncomfortable under his incomprehensive gaze._

_“W-what I’m saying is that you can let down your guard. We don’t want a repeat of the handkerchief incident again.” She finished lamely._

_Itachi blinked as he willed a blush away. The handkerchief incident would forever be a mark of embarrassment on his nearly perfect shinobi record. He supposed that he could attempt to be less jumpy… if only to prevent such humiliations in the future. Itachi nodded to himself._

_“Hn, I shall to my best Emma-sama.” He replied as they both returned to their tasks._

Itachi’s ability to converse with customers was slowly and steadily improving, but he still had occasional moments of the familiar shinobi paranoia. The loud clattering of pans and the occasional slammed door still managed to make him jump much to his chagrin. At least he wasn’t pulling out kunai willy-nilly anymore. Susan was the only person who could actually sneak up on him and therefore the only person he still tossed kunai at. At this point, Itachi was fairly sure that she was purposely startling him for the fun of it. He had begun to lose track of the times she had shouted a loud greeting when he was taking a break from people.

_Itachi took a deep breath. It was always large that managed to drain him of energy. Of the memories that spun like a whirlpool in his mind, in most he appeared alone. Forever outside that normal crowd, forbidden to never interact by one shadowed figure or another. Suddenly the floor creaked._

_“Hi!” Came an exuberant voice immediately._

_A kunai whizzed past Susan’s cheek as a scream came from her mouth._

_“Bye!” She screamed in terror._

_Itachi reached a hesitant hand out as she fled, slightly puzzled about what to do._

Shaking such memories from his mind, Itachi surveyed the shop. A determined gleam entered his eye as he noticed the many abandoned, unwashed tables. Washcloth and broom in hand, Itachi moved in on his latest mission. While he most definitely enjoyed cooking, that was usually Emma’s fiercely guarded domain. Susan would normally work dishes when her body would allow it, but with Itachi’s arrival gradually more and more fell upon him. Not that he particularly minded. Itachi welcomed such a soothing action a cleaning. Organization and cleanliness felt like it meant a lot to him. Gathering various stray dishes Itachi dumped them in the kitchen sink to soak while he wiped down the tables and floors.

Both Susan and Emma were out for the day, gathering supplies and just otherwise having a pleasant day out. As such, they had closed the shop and left Itachi in charge temporarily. That was either a very nice show of trust or an indirect way to chose not to be seen in public with him. Itachi would like to consider it the former mostly because he would have trusted himself and to have people giving him faith was rather nice. Thus he would repay such kindness in full. His eyes narrowed as he began to scrub a particularly stubborn something rather that was stuck on one of the tables.

It is important to note that with a being such as Itachi normal things had a tendency to turn _less_ than normal. Conversations, when not answered with grunts, were usually short and filled to the brim with misinterpreted logic. Various knife marks had also begun to show up on the wall every now and then before mysteriously disappearing. Burglaries, although uncommon before, were now as likely as spotting a unicorn. The kitchen fires flared up around him every now and then, usually when he just drew close. Last but not least, Itachi had the oddest ability to attract the oddest of things. Ravens were normal creatures. They often appeared suddenly upon chairs or even atop the faucet. What was to come, however, went beyond Itachi’s normal oddness… A man had decided to walk through the wall.

“Yo, Emma! Road was wonder–”

Itachi hadn’t even allowed the moment to finish. In a flash he was sending a kick at the man’s head, Weasel mask sliding into place almost of its own will. It was odd. Itachi watched as his foot slide fluently through the intruder’s head. The man’s abilities… reminded him of one of those shaded figures in his memories. They were filled with a familiar copper taste and feelings of deep sorrow. Unwittingly, he let out a cough… soon it was followed by another and another until there was the slight taste of blood on his lips. Recovering from his surprise, the man and Itachi briefly made eye contact. With a familiar pain of the eyes, the intruder fell to the ground. For several moments Itachi got the oddest feeling that his eyes had turned a startling crimson.

Itachi blinked and the man on the ground groaned. Itachi smacked him. This time his foot did not go through.

… … …

Itachi stared at the intruder now thoroughly tied to a chair. The ropes would most likely be ineffective against him, but it was the thought that counted. Normally, Itachi got the feeling that he wouldn’t have been so nice to an intruder with likely dubious intentions. For several reasons, this would _not_ have been a very good idea. Itachi, as he was coming to find, was not a fan of violence. He didn’t like the idea of hurting someone both maliciously or in defense. It sent his stomach whirling and left a bad taste in his mouth… although, that could have been the blood from earlier. His other reason was that he wasn’t sure how long it would take Emma and Susan to return. Bloodstains take a rather long time to remove, good technique aside. The bell attached to the door chimed. Speak of the devil.

“Itachi we’re–”

Immediately Itachi appeared next to them in the doorway, startling them both.

“– _bloody hell!_ ”

Emma held a hand over her heart as Susan turned slightly pale.

“Your _bloody_ weirdo mask just gave _bloody_ heart attack!” Emma hissed.

Itachi let out a sigh. It seemed as though Emma was once again going to go to war against the ‘ _weirdo’_ mask once again. Personally, Itachi didn’t see the problem with it.

“I have restrained an intruder.” Itachi reported, “What next actions should I take.”

Both of them looked at him with wide eyes.

“Y-you restrained an intruder...” Susan questioned.

Itachi nodded. He really didn’t understand why they were having such a hard time comprehending the situation. There was an intruder, he restrained the intruder. Nothing more nothing less.

“Now Itachi…” Emma started gently, “Are you _sure_ it was an intruder.”

Itachi stared at her for a moment. Yes. Of course. He would just go restraining a random person– oh… Itachi sighed.

“He walked through the wall.” He attempted to explain.

For a moment Emma seemed confused, then a look of surprise flashed across her face closely followed my exasperation. Susan began laughing as Emma brought a hand to her forehead and sighed. Itachi just watched on in confusion.

“That idiot…” Emma muttered.

Susan dried the tears from her eyes. Before motioning Itachi away from her furiously muttering daughter.

“Itachi dear,” She said with a smile, “where’d you leave him.”

Still, with much confusion, Itachi leads them to the tied-up intruder. Susan immediately began laughing once again. Like the third party on an unknown joke, Itachi just watched as the Davis family gradually fell into humor. They went on and on, doodling on his face, and promising never to let this moment go. Itachi was beginning to get the feeling that the person who slipped through the walls was, in fact, not an intruder and actually a friend. With a heavy sigh, Itachi removed the weasel mask from his face hesitantly. The man gave off a dark aura, not particularly malicious but certainly not nice either. The man just made him uneasy. The stranger awoke with a groan and the Davis’ teasing.

“I told you your little wall slips were going to bit you in the butt one of these days, Tyki.” Emma smirked.

Tyki pouted slightly before a relaxed smile fell across his face.

“Well,” He purred, “If I had known there was going to be a little exorcist on the other side, perhaps I would have been a little more careful.”

All three of them blinked.

“I’m not an exorcist.”

“He’s a freeloader.”

“He’s a homeless boy that’s good with knives.”

Three pairs of eyes found Susan. Tyki’s smile turned confused.

“I do believe you owe me the whole story now.” He stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an update schedule now. Yay.

**Author's Note:**

> Several things to clear up in the chapter:  
> 1\. I sincerely doubt that Itachi would ever forget the brother he committed mass genocide and died for, but hey, it's a matter of personal opinion.  
> 2\. His current physical state shall be elaborated upon later.  
> 3\. oba-sama - something along the lines of 'respected grandmother'. I like to keep Japanese words for food and suffix because the English version sound stupid in context.  
> 4\. Kunai - diamond-shaped knife, actually weapon not just synonymous to Naruto.  
> 5\. Sama - usually translated as 'lord' or 'lady' in English, but can also just denote a high form of respect.  
> 6\. Okonomiyaki - 'cabbage pancake' see, stupid.  
> 7\. I trust you all know what 'MIA' means, if not, google it you ding-dong.  
> 8\. Mr. is used at the end for obvious reasons. I hope that you guys could pick up on the fact that I am attempting to describe a European town/city. Mr. is used because that person is either English or raised English. Itachi is Japanese, and therefore would be more familiar with Japanese formalities than English... even though he can just speak the language. That shall also be explained later. I don't like lose ends.  
> 9\. Do you guys think I'm a guy, gal, or gender-ambiguous or fluid. I am morbidly curious about your responses.


End file.
